


As you wish [so shall it be]

by Maewn



Series: We are not the heroes [8]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Valentine's Day, fluffy fluff, in skyrim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 17:25:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17791631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maewn/pseuds/Maewn
Summary: It's Heart's Day, for Bal's sake, and all Morgyn wants to do is relax in her own bed, spend time with her lover, but no, the paperwork is trying to eat her brain instead.





	As you wish [so shall it be]

Morgyn squints at the words on the scroll in front of her, sighing as they dissolve into squiggles once again.

She needs rest, to bite someone, or get laid.

She’s not particular on which at this point. Anything to break the monotony of the reports she’s been stuck reviewing.

Gods, she misses being home but she’s stuck dealing with the fallout from the Eye of Magnus. Months later and she’s nowhere near done with the paperwork.

It’s Heart’s Day, for Bal’s sake, all she wants is to relax in her own bed, perhaps tie Emrys to the headboard and have her way with him. It’s been far too long since she’s done that.

She muses over the idea for far too long, only realizing it when a knock comes from the door.

“What do you want?” Morgyn calls, her voice sharp as the fangs she keeps carefully hidden. “If another one of the apprentices has set themselves on fire, someone else can handle it!”

“It’s just me, Arch-mage,” Tolfdir’s dry voice says.

“What do you want?” Morgyn repeats, gesturing to the door which swings open.

“I came to see how you’re doing with the reports on the bridge reconstruction,” Tolfdir says, smiling placidly.

Morgyn sighs, “We’ve hit a snag with the weather,” she complains. “The stonemasons can’t lay a proper foundation with all the snow. Honestly, it’s a miracle this place was even built, what with all the snowstorms and sleet we get.”

“Then we should set up barriers around the foundation to keep it free of the elements and apply heating spells to melt the ice. Then the masons could work unimpeded by the snow,” Tolfdir suggests.

Morgyn blinks. “The enchantments would have to be of master caliber,” she says slowly. It could work. It would certainly mean that the reconstruction could continue. And Bal knows, they needed to rebuild the walls as well...

“Sergius can easily spend a few days working on that,” Tolfdir replies. “I don’t think we should trust this to the apprentices.”

“True,” Morgyn says. The apprentices are ill-equipped to manipulate the world to the degree that a master can. She looks over her papers with a sigh. “I don’t suppose that you’d like to take a look over these?”

“You looking to escape your duties?” Tolfdir asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You and I both know that the bridge can wait a day or so more,” Morgyn snaps. “I’ve been dealing with this shit,” she rustles the pile of parchments at Tolfdir threateningly, “for _months_ now and I really could use a break.”

“Taking a sabbatical is allowed,” Tolfdir says.

Morgyn narrows her eyes at him. “You’ve been expecting this.”

“I thought it would happen earlier but yes,” Tolfdir admits. “I can manage the College for a few days, or weeks if you choose to stay away longer.”

Morgyn stands abruptly. “Then you have governance over College affairs for the next week, if you need me, I will be in Eastmarch.”

“As you say, Arch-mage,” Tolfdir says, bowing slightly.

Morgyn breezes past him, darting up the stairs to her rooms. She extinguishes all the candles that burn above the enchanters, grabs her satchel from the end of the bed, shoving clothes inside it before swinging the bag over her shoulder. Then she finds a clear space on the floor where no rug will impede her movement.

She turns once, taking the room in, then twice, closes her eyes and thinks of home, turning a third and final time.

When she opens them again, she is standing in the front foyer of the little house in the mountains, the sound of the servants chattering audible over the bubbling gurgle of the stream that runs through the glade of gold and red maple trees.

“Welcome back, mistress,” Emrys says, rising from where he’d been kneeling to check on the small fish pond. The light of the great iron-wrought globe that hangs far overhead turns his pale hair to glittering gold, and his eyes to gleaming emeralds.

He looks _beautiful_.

Morgyn walks to him, discarding her satchel on the nearby chair and loops her arms around his neck, pulling him into a passionate kiss.

He yields to her with a quiet sigh, eyes fluttering shut as she kisses him.

“Hello, Emrys,” she murmurs against his lips.

“Happy Heart’s Day, mistress,” he replies.

“It is, isn’t it?” she asks. “I’ve a week off and I’d very much like to see you tied to my bed for at least half of it.”

Emrys laughs. “If that is your wish, mistress, I will happily oblige.”

“Please close the door if you do,” Bella calls from the kitchen. “I’ve no desire to hear that.”

“Or I could just take you right here,” Morgyn muses, kissing Emrys again, “I do like to see you on your knees.”

“Mistress Gaerhart,” Bella says, poking her head around the doorframe, her dark curls tied back from her brown face, amber eyes pleading. “Please don’t.”

“Why not?” Morgyn asks. “He’s my consort and he’s perfectly willing to bend to my needs.”

“I know that, mistress,” Bella says patiently. “But the rest of us are not voyeurs and don’t want to become such accidently.”

“Speak for yourself,” Indra says as he passes through the foyer, bowstaff over his shoulder, “I _like_ watching.”

“Such a pervert,” Bella hisses at him.

Indra grins at her, his brown eyes glinting with glee before he winks at Morgyn. “Good to have you back, mistress.”

“Try not to break anything, Indra,” Morgyn says, “Last thing we need is for you to lose a limb due to carelessness while training.”

“Mistress, what kind of imbecile do you take me for?” the Imperial asks, clutching his chest in staged agony. “Oh woe is me, when my lady believes such ill rumors of myself!”

“It’s not a rumor if it’s true,” Emrys says.

“Emrys!” Indra gasps. “So rude.”

“Go on then,” Morgyn says, waving a hand at him. “And keep an eye out.”

“Of course, mistress,” Indra says, bowing and ducking out the door which locks behind him.

“Honestly, that man,” Bella grumbles. “Mistress, if you’re going to be doing terrible things to Emrys, please don’t do them in the foyer.”

“I’ll consider it,” Morgyn says dismissively, “back to work with you. Shoo.”

Bella sighs. “Yes, mistress.”

“Now,” Morgyn says, turning her attention back to Emrys. “Where was I?”

“Planning terrible things to inflict upon me, mistress,” Emrys says dryly.

“You know you like them,” Morgyn says. “Hmm, I think I would quite like to bathe, and you can help with that.”

“As you wish, mistress,” Emrys says, easily lifting Morgyn into his arms and carrying her up the stairs towards the master bath that Morgyn spent a small fortune renovating. Dwemer machinery pumps in hot water from the springs and the rooms are quite warm in the winter months which makes it Morgyn’s favorite spot in the house during that time of year.

She delights in washing off the dust of the College, sighing at the warmth of the water as Emrys washes her hair. She can wash it herself, but it’s nice when someone else does it.

And particularly so when it is one’s lover.

“Emrys?” she asks, idly watching his hands slide though her hair, gently untangling the knots.

“Yes, mistress?” his pale eyes look to her, curious.

“Will you stay with me?” Morgyn asks.

“For as long as you will have me, mistress,” Emrys says softly.

“What if I want you for forever?” Morgyn asks, sitting up, leaning over the edge of the tub, uncaring of the water that drips from her body.

“Then you will have me for forever, mistress,” Emrys says.

“Forever and a day,” Morgyn says, “For forever doesn’t seem like long enough.”

“Fair,” Emrys agrees, tilting his head to kiss her. It’s soft, almost hesitant.

Morgyn smiles, placing her free hand on his throat, just above the bronze torc he wears and slides her fingers down to rest against the twisted metal ropes. She has some skill in Alteration magic and it is easy to turn the bronze to gold, matching the torc she wears around her own neck.

They do not need rings, Morgyn thinks.

Emrys is watching her as she draws back. He’s smiling brightly.

“My lady Morgyn,” he says, and Morgyn marvels that there is a spattering of gold in his green eyes that she hasn’t noticed before, glimmering in the light, bright and beautiful.

“Emrys,” she replies, leaning in to kiss him again. “I think I would like it if you were to take me to bed now.”

Emrys smiles, soft and gentle and utterly joyful, “As you wish.”


End file.
